


Long Distance

by alice9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Army Dean, Cute, M/M, Teacher Castiel, letters to soliders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice9/pseuds/alice9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a letter from a teacher in Pennsylvania while he is stationed overseas and forms a bond with the man. Super cute. Afternoon one shot. Bad summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance

The first letter Dean received began with "Today I had to remind myself that teaching youths will benefit this country in the long run more times than I could count," and ended with, "My name is Castiel. Be safe."  
He'd been surprised when mail call included his name. Sam only emailed him and Sam was all he had really. Jo wouldn't write and neither would Bobby so a physical letter came as a surprise. The mystery letter was part of a letters to soldiers program at a high school in Pennsylvania in a town he'd never heard of. Instead of a student he had been given a teacher. His humor was dry, britishly dry, and it made Dean laugh at something that wasn't war related team rallying for the first time in months. 

 

The letter sat on his desk where he would read it when he wanted something that wasn't dust or war slop or endless card playing and after what was probably too long to respond he did. Trying his best to have legible penmanship he wrote back telling this stranger the current everyday life of Dean Winchester and some small details of old. He sent it out and scorned himself the next day when disappointment was what met him at mail call. But it became a constant for three weeks until his name was called again. The letters continued. Eight months were left in his tour and every two weeks his name would be said and he happily took his letter retreating to his bunk to read it.  
Castiel Novak was 31 years old and taught 9th grade. He loved coke a cola and read the paper like an old man every morning. (His declaration, not Deans.) He had one brother that he spoke with and a large family that he avoided at all costs. His cat was named Shiny after a television show and he confided in Dean that he knew his voice was ridiculously attractive and used it to his advantage when the situation required. 

Eight months passed of this sharing, of Dean finding refuge in this strangers tales. It helped, when the days were rough and he thanked Castiel, profusely once, for being an oasis in the dessert of his mind. For giving him a taste of the world he missed. Sure, he had signed up for this life but it was only because it was the best option. Not the most coveted. 

He shared with Castiel bits of his life. His love of cars and music, his brother and his tattered upbringing. He even shared his aspirations for return, a thing he didn't share with Sam. He wanted to help people, specifically he wanted to help rehabilitate his fallen friends. People who shared the life he was living and returned to the civilian world with less than what they left. 

Castiel told him it was noble encouraging him forward and Dean found himself falling for the man with each word written on the page.  
Each letter he kept in their envelope on the small desk next to his bed with the current book he was reading neatly on top. The stack grew and the book slid until he had to store some in his pack. 

The guys ribbed him for it of course. Especially the ones with partners back home because even they didn't keep track of their loved ones letters. But it was more than just his growing affection for Castiel, he'd never received letters before this. No cards as a child, no mail sent for him. He found himself treasuring these notes from afar. 

"When you come home," Castiel wrote, "i'd like to come meet you. You're my longest long distance friend."

Dean read that sentence over and over again. There was this thing, a barrier of protection for lack of better words, the distance and mystery between them that Dean was afraid, no, terrified of losing. He enjoyed it too much and couldn't think about it being ruined. What if he'd built Castiel up in his head and the reality wasn't what he thought? What if Castiel was disappointed in him? What if this whole thing had been one giant catfish episode on MTV and would completely fuck with his mind?

Ultimately he settled on what if he's amazing? And the thought wouldn't leave his mind. 

Dean returned from war in May. The plane home didn't even bother him (truthfully it did though just a little) he was too excited and nervous to focus on the plane going down. 

Sam had been confused but went along with the plan flying himself out to Philadelphia to meet him. 

Their reunion was filled with manly tears* (see sobbing like children) and firm pats on the back* (see continued sobbing like children) and eventually (after they had a good long cry that they deserved because, hello, they were both happy Dean returned all appendages attached) they left the airport in a rental and started driving towards Liberty Pennsylvania. 

It was a small town, so small in fact that they had to drive to the next town over to find a hotel. The four hours there and late into the night they caught up and Dean explained to Sam what he was doing, what he was trying to do at least.  
Sam didn't crush his hopes but did point out that Deans crush could be completely unfounded. That he shouldn't hope for more and he agreed though he couldn't keep his heart from being excited.  
They found a small diner to eat from the next morning and then Dean insisted they go back so he could brush his teeth before they headed to the small school in the equally small town.  
Dean wore his army dress down and rubbed his sweating hands on them enough to worry that they were starting to dampen the fabric. 

The secretary questioned Dean well enough to know that Castiel had shared parts of their communications, at least parts of it, with her and she seemed happy enough at his arrival there. She led him herself to the 9th grade classroom that Castiel was in charge of. 

"You know," she smiled at him, "every letter you sent him made him so happy. He would read them to us sometimes. Just bits. He worried about you. I'm glad you made it home."  
Dean didn't know what to say to that so he just agreed. 

The door had a small plaque on it that read Mr. Novak and Dean hesitated for a moment. He knew that this would change everything and the thought of it all falling apart terrified him. Mrs. Snider placed her hand on his elbow and gave him an encouraging smile. He knocked three times. 

"Come in!" A deep voice called slightly muffled through the door way and Dean opened it stepping through. 

The classroom was as Castiel described it. He taught English and had plants scattered about the small classroom with thirty or so students staring at him along with their teacher. They'd never exchanged photos and Dean was left staring at a tall lean muscled man with night black bed head hair and brilliant blue eyes. They were concerned Dean noted right before the man spoke "is Dean alright?" in his deep, definitely attractive gravel laced voice. 

It made his heart do a funny thing in his chest knowing that Castiel was concerned about him, thinking sourly at a uniform coming into his classroom and it spoke of how well Castiel knew he was in Deans life.  
"I'm fine Cas." He smiled around his words. His face forming the embodiment of the excitement that was overriding his nerves and he watched as Castiels face, his beautiful blue eyes shining with emotion, catch up to the program.  
It was four short strides that brought Castiel crashing against him, the warmth of his body in Deans arms amplifying the moment and bringing it to a reality he had only imagined. 

"I thought," Castiel said against his shoulder, "I didn't want this to be bad news." 

"I had to come see you. I didn't know if you," he didn't know what words to use. They'd never discussed anything in their letters that would warrant Dean the permission to ask more of this man. 

"I do." Castiel nodded against him before pulling back to look at him with tear rimmed lashes. "Since the first letter."

Dean smiled and then laughed before leaning his forehead against the warmth of Castiels. "Me too."


End file.
